


Picture This

by junkienicky



Series: Snapshots [5]
Category: Wentworth (TV)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/F, Post-Canon, Walks In The Park, literally just fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-13
Updated: 2019-05-13
Packaged: 2020-02-28 11:17:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18755380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/junkienicky/pseuds/junkienicky
Summary: Franky just wants a dog.





	Picture This

**Author's Note:**

> Here's some dumb fluff because I had a sudden urge to write it all down. Thanks for being patient with my other works that are _loonnng_ overdue (laughs nervously). Anyway, hope you enjoy + A thanks to Lutefiskfisk for your continued support!

The sun isn’t Bridget’s friend, which is kind of ironic, really, given her living circumstances. It has never been kind to her or gifted her the sun-kissed skin look that compliments Franky so well. Even so, she appreciates it when she can – that and the pleasant walks in the gorgeous parks Franky has coaxed her into. Around them, spring is in full motion and they are surrounded by pink, yellow and green hues in endless shades. They walk in comfortable silence amongst the gentle breeze and beating sun beams, which makes Bridget thankful for the handy spare pair of shades she has at hand.

Franky has been biting her tongue for the last half hour, knowing that she shouldn’t bring it up, but she tries so damn hard to resist. She fails, miserably (not that it stops the aching grin from stretching her face). She jogs a little to catch up with the blonde because while she herself is taller, Bridget doesn’t half have a stride in her shorter legs sometimes when she wants to.

“So, Gidge.” Franky catches up and spins to walk backwards in front of Bridget’s view.

“Mm?”

“I had a dream last night,” she starts and although the blue of Bridget’s eyes is disguised by a dark tint, she can sense the forlorn shift in them. “But not a bad one,” she reassures quickly. It’s not like after a few years, her night sweats have reduced since Wentworth. They’ve probably worsened in some ways, but that couldn’t be helped. She’d take a bad dream over that life a thousand times over. “It was actually kinda funny.”

“What was it?” Bridget asks curiously, with a gentle humour meeting her tone. Franky stops in her pace, as does Bridget, and the brunette lifts her own shades to her head and clasps her hands together like she’s about to pitch something very important.

“So, you know how some people have dreams that they’ve had a kid, right?”

“You dreamed that?”

“Nuh.” Franky shakes her head and that same fucking goofily adorable, dimple-exposing grin resurfaces. “We had a dog.” She nods.

Bridget smiles, letting out a small sigh from her lips. She pretends she hasn’t heard this millions of times before in different variations. This is just the latest adaptation of the lot.

“Did we really?”

“Yeah,” Franky says, stepping forth to gently take Bridget by the shoulders. “Picture this, right, we called him Koji and he was a little German Shepherd with big, floppy ears and a really cute fucking face.”

Bridget smirks and carries on walking, knowing it doesn’t matter because Franky would keep on, anyways. “And, and –” Just like she expected.

“And he was really well-behaved and him and George were like two little best mates,” Franky beams, not willing to put out the hopeful spark in her heart. She knows the reason Gidget is so reluctant to even discuss the topic is that she fears the only man she’d ever given her heart to – in other words, her darling cat – would probably have a heart attack to find a boisterous puppy trotting around his territory. He was jealous enough when Franky arrived. Another family member being cooed over and receiving more attention of Bridget’s than he would accept would be enough to drive him away on his little soft toe beans to the other side of the neighbourhood.

“George has never been near a dog before, how do you even know he’d be comfortable with one in our home?” she challenges kindly – just a gentle reminder of something for Franky to consider. “Who’s gonna train him?” Bridget adds, feeling guilty of the sunken look on Franky’s face that suddenly forms.

“I will.”

“What if we get a girl and then we’re stuck with puppies?”

“We get her spayed or get a boy.”

“We work full-time, honey, we won’t have time to walk it in the morning. By the time we get home, we’re both tired enough as it is, let alone if a dog was in the picture.”

Franky shrugs and slouches her shoulders sadly. The chess match is nearly over, and Bridget is clearly storming the field by far. Maybe it would be a good idea to just let it go. “Nuh, you’re right,” she says, pulling her shades back down to cover her eyes and she continues to walk. “It’s a dumb idea, just forget about it.”

And that subtle disappointment in Franky’s voice is enough to keel Bridget over with an aching rue in the pit of her belly. Every. Damn. Time.

“Franky, wait, wait,” Bridget says, grasping the cuff of Franky’s jacket to make her turn. She’s met with a sulky face and it turns the blonde weak to her knees.

“I didn’t say no,” she sighs, allowing a smile to play at the corner of her mouth. Her wife’s face immediately lights up with a gleaming grin.

“For real?” Franky asks, containing her joy.

“It might be a long process but I’m willing to at least try –”

“I’ll train him,” Franky blurts, declaring how committed and devoted she would be. “I’ll walk him every day and we’ll get one that George is comfortable being around and I’ll make sure he –”

“We both will,” Bridget shushes, pressing a finger to Franky’s lips. She feels them crease into a smile beneath the touch. The brunette moves to stand by her wife and clasps their hands together. They continue to walk through the peak warmth of the day.

“Thank you,” Franky murmurs. “Love you.”

Gidget hums a response and slides her arm around Franky’s waist. “Or, you know, we could get a kid,” Franky teases, nudging Bridget in the hip.

“Now darling, that’s a different kind of hell,” her wife replies and Franky chuckles heartily in agreement.


End file.
